The Way the Cookie Crumbles
by Qym
Summary: For natalie-d-j on tumblr, one of the winners of my annual holiday giveaway. This is a series of three short stories about mtf!Emma.
1. Part One: Emma and Henry

Emma adjusted her dress for what the fifth time and checked the time on her phone. Either Mr. Jeremy T. Jones, wife beater extraordinaire, was running very late, or he had caught wind of her game and backed off. In any event, she was sitting alone in a fancy restaurant in one of her more expensive dresses and feeling a bit like a fool. She sighed, sipped from her glass of water, and watched the staff rush around her table. They worked like the tides – they ebbed and flowed with platters, plates, glasses, and checks, all the while practically ignoring her as they did so. Once upon a time, she would have loved blending in this well, but now she just wanted to go home. She lifted two fingers and heralded her waitress.

"Blown off? Ugh, I hate when that happens. Believe me, though, it can't be you." The waitress's eyes raked down her figure. "I love that dress. You're gorgeous, and he's an idiot."

Emma smiled grimly and held her hand out. The things people said for tips, she thought. She had to admit, though, that the dress was exceptional, and the girl didn't have bad taste. Despite the schmoozing and the lack of a real order, Emma left a healthy tip and headed for the door. Her phone buzzed – a text from Jeremy, she noted, which claimed that he had lost track of time and was exceptionally sorry. Perhaps not all was lost. She texted him back agreeing to another night that week before sliding into her car.

In general, she liked getting dolled up – she couldn't deny that. She slid the key into the ignition and shook her head; there was, however, something about that particular night that left her wishing she was curled up in bed rather than hunting down idiots who jumped their bail. For the twenty-eight year in a row, she was celebrating her birthday in the company of strangers. Just once, she thought, having family to spend time with would be pleasant… She pulled a tissue from her purse and smeared the lipstick from her lips. Something could be salvaged, as she had gotten a cupcake earlier that evening from a local bakery, and she had just enough time to go home, light the candle, and lick the frosting off before bed.

So focused was she on getting inside and blowing out the candle that she didn't notice the small boy huddled against her door until she stumbled over his sneaker. He yawned, rubbed a fist over his eyes, and beamed up at her. She watched him curiously for a moment as his expression shifted from excitement to confusion.

"Can I help you?"

"Um. Maybe?" He scrambled to his feet and extended his hand. "I'm Henry Mills."

"I'm not interested in buying popcorn, boy scout." She stepped around him, inserted her key, and slipped inside. "And as a head's up, this building has a pretty strict no solicitation policy, so-"

"I'm not selling popcorn." He braced the door with his palm. "I'm looking for someone."

"Do your parents know you're here?"

"That's who I'm trying to find. I'm looking for an Edward Sullivan Swan." He stared hopefully up at her. "Do you know him?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Why are you looking for him?"

"He's my dad. I don't think he knows it yet, though. Are you his girlfriend?"

Emma couldn't find words for several seconds. She blinked down at Henry, while her brain struggled to process what he had just said. He was Edward Swan's kid, she thought. She swallowed past the growing lump in her throat. He was her kid. She wasn't supposed to have a kid-

"Can I come in?"

"I think you need to go home."

"Not until I see him." Henry tried to peer past her into the apartment, but she kept the path inside firmly blocked. "I knocked before, and nobody answered, but maybe he was asleep?"

"I hate to break it to you, kid, but Edward Swan doesn't live here."

"But – this is the most recent address I could find. The mailbox downstairs even has Swan written on it. He's got to live here. He's just got to."

She shook her head. "He hasn't lived here in a long time."

Henry stared at her, and she noted the fierce determination in his eyes. "You're lying."

"It's the truth. And it's not possible for you to be his kid. He never had kids."

"You know a lot about him for someone who claims to not know him."

"I just said he doesn't live here. I didn't say I didn't know him." Emma groaned quietly. The kid wasn't just going to disappear, and she really didn't want to have this argument out in the hall. She pulled the door open and gestured for him to enter. "Take your shoes off and don't touch anything."

"Awesome!" He brushed past her, kicked his shoes off obediently, and set about examining all of her belongings that were out on display. There weren't many, and it didn't take him long to return his attention to her. "So who are you?"

"I'm Emma."

"Nice to meet you."

"Kid, there's gotta be some misunderstanding."

He shook his head. "My birth mother was Nelly Darling. She listed Edward Swan as the father on my birth certificate. Do you know how long it took me to even find that out? Like a really long time. She put me up for adoption when I was born, see, and nobody would tell me anything. I found this website, though, that helps adopted kids find their birth parents, and I looked up everything. That site led me here, and this is where I'm supposed to find Edward Swan, my biological father."

Emma licked her lips, suddenly thirsty for something stronger than the water she'd imbibed earlier. She opened the fridge to give herself something to do and asked over her shoulder, "You're sure about that?"

"Yup! Otherwise I wouldn't have come."

"And your adoptive mom – she was okay with this?"

"Y-yeah, of course."

"Now who's lying?" She snagged a carton of orange juice and set it on the counter. Drinking straight vodka in front of the kid wouldn't send the right message, so she determined a mixed drink would have to suffice. "Kid, just go home and forget about this."

"I can't." He clasped his hands in front of him and opened his eyes as wide as they would physically go. "You don't understand – the woman who adopted me, she not very nice."

"All kids feel that way about their parents."

Emma turned to the cabinets to retrieve a glass so that he couldn't see the empathy in her expression. She'd had a bunch of shit parents through the years, and she felt his pain – but there wasn't anything she could do about it. He had been legally adopted, and as far as she knew, he was exaggerating. He was wearing nice clothes, there were no visible bruises, and he met her eyes when he spoke to her. None of that meant he was lying, but she had her doubts about his story.

"I'm really serious. If I could just talk to Edward – he'd understand. I bet he didn't even know I was born."

"You've got that part right, at least," she muttered under her breath.

"I can't live with her anymore, Emma. She's trying to make me be someone I'm not. She's done that to the whole town."

Emma froze. He seemingly knew her weakness, and his single comment had done more to convince her than any of his previous arguments. She cleared her throat. "Look, I'll drive you home, okay? And I'll take a look and see if there's anything I can do."

"No offense, Emma, but I need my dad. If he didn't know about me, maybe he can take me back. I looked up the laws and stuff, and he should have been notified so that he could have claimed me before I got adopted out. He would have wanted me." Henry licked his lips and picked at a fingernail. "He would have, I know it."

Emma thought back to when she had known Nelly – she had been sixteen years old at the time, and completely uncomfortable with her body. No foster parent had even tried to understand what she had been telling them – and no foster parent was willing to let her see a doctor. She had run away to try and fix things on her own when she'd run into the good-natured young woman. Nelly had been the first one to call her Emma. Back then, she didn't know how to handle herself, let alone another human life. No matter how sure Henry sounded, she knew differently. She would have encouraged the adoption, not fought it.

"Edward isn't coming back," she finally said. "He's gone for good."

"What do you mean? What happened to him? Is he dead?"

She wrinkled her nose – she didn't want to panic or upset him, but the truth was what it was. "Sort of. Not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"Look, my name is Emma Swan."

He paused, examined her, and asked, "You're his wife?"

"No. Here's the thing – Edward Swan isn't coming back because, well, I used to be him. But now I'm me. The real me."

"What?"

"You've been clothes shopping, right?" She waited for him to nod before continuing. "Well, have you ever tried on a shirt, and it just wasn't right? Like it didn't fit the way you wanted it to, and it just wasn't you?"

"Yeah."

"I was born with a body that looks more like yours than mine, but it just didn't fit right. So I did what you do at the store – you get something that actually works for you." When his expression remained blank, she grimaced. Somehow he was her kid. He was probably intelligent as hell, but thick as a cement slab as well. "Kid, I was born Edward Swan. I was told I was a boy, but I knew pretty early on that I wasn't. Two years ago, I finally got the surgeries that let me look like the person I know I am. I changed my name and my body, but I'm who you're looking for."

"That's not possible." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a tattered paper. She took it from his hands, unfolded it, and examined its contents. "See, my dad is supposed to come save us all from my mom."

The picture as a pretty accurate depiction of what she would have looked like if she had given in to the pressure to be a male – the man's blonde hair was cropped short and his chest was broad and masculine, but there was no denying the similarity to herself. Though she wanted to question where he got it from, she also wasn't very interested in hearing more of his rambling. She ran a finger over the image and fought the odd feeling in her belly. She had no interest in being this man, no matter what this kid said.

"Well, that's not going to happen."

"But you have to." He grabbed her wrist as she handed the picture back. "You're my dad."

"What part of me looks like a father, kid?" Emma jerked away. "I haven't spent my entire life fighting for this – for me – to have some kid think he knows better. If you are my kid, which I'm still not convinced, then you really can't be here. Your mom is going to be pissed, and, to be honest, I'm getting pretty pissed myself."

"If you don't come with, then the curse won't break."

This part of Henry, the part that didn't seem to grasp reality, had to come from Nelly. Still, she didn't know anything about the kid, let alone where he came from, so Emma realized she'd have to be crafty to get this kid out of her hair. He was a reminder of who she had been forced to be, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings, but she also didn't want him around. That part of her life was thankfully over; she didn't keep pictures around, and she certainly wouldn't keep him.

"Kid," she started, thinking quickly, "if I drive you home and check things out, will that be good enough?"

His lips twitched to the side. "As my dad?"

"I don't think you're really getting this. I'm a woman, Henry. I've always been one, no matter what you think."

"We'll see." He smiled at her and extended his hand. "So come on! Let's go!"

"I'm not staying, and I'm not pretending to be someone I'm not."

"Sure." He dropped his hand once he was sure she wasn't going to take it. "If we leave now, we could be home in a few hours."

"Gimme a few minutes, kid."

She stared mournfully at her untouched glass of vodka and orange juice before dumping its contents down the sink. Unwilling to leave her cupcake behind, she freed it from its container, jammed her only candle on top, and lit the flame. Ignoring Henry's questions, she closed her eyes and made a wish: _I know I was wishing pretty hard to have someone to share my birthday with earlier – I'd like to retract that wish with this formal wish and instead – I wish for someone who accepts me as I am_.

She blew the candle out, swabbed her finger through the frosting, and then turned to go change her clothes. She could hear him moving around the apartment, but she focused her attention on staying calm and in control. Seeing him was reawaken a number of unpleasant memories of her own childhood; on top of that, her stomach was roiling and clenching in turn as he continuously, obstinately refused to see her as Emma rather than the father he assumed her to be.

For now, she told herself, she just needed to get him back to wherever he was from. The emotional impact would be dealt with later.

0-0-0

"Okay. So before we go in, you have to promise me something."

She sighed and turned to her passenger. Upon exiting her bedroom, she'd found him finishing off her cupcake, holding one of her meager possessions, and chattering on about his home town. That natter hadn't stopped through the duration of the car ride, and he seemed content to continue talking even as they sat at the curb in front of his home. The kid had nice digs, she noted – a big yard, a manor of a house, and presumably a nice life.

"I drove you this far. You agreed that if I took you home and checked things out, you'd drop it. I'm going to walk you in. I'll make sure everything's okay, and then you will never contact me again. Okay?"

His smile didn't waver. "You'll change your mind once you meet her."

Emma rolled her eyes. "I'm one hundred percent sure I won't."

"Promise me that you'll really make sure, okay?" He set a hand on her forearm. "Because I know how adults work. You'll say something like that, and then you'll go in, barely look, and then go home. You think because I'm a kid I don't understand how things work, but that's not true. You owe me a real effort."

"I don't owe you anything-"

"You're part of the reason I'm stuck with her."

"I didn't even know you existed-"

"So here's your chance to know me." His grasp on her tightened. "Please."

Emma opened the car door, pulled free from his grip, and started up the walk to his house. He hurried after her, trying to coach her on what to say and what to think, but she ignored him in favor of rapping on the broad, white door. It immediately swung open and revealed a brunette who rushed past her and dragged Henry into a hug.

"Where have you been?"

"I went and found my dad."

Henry struggled free from her grip, and Emma didn't miss the look of pain that filled the brunette's expression. The woman turned and finally seemed to see her. She lifted a hand in greeting and smiled weakly.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Emma Swan." Emma rubbed the back of her neck and tried to divert attention away from how weak the other woman made her knees. "You must be Henry's mom?"

"I am."

Henry marched to Emma's side and linked their hands – Emma instinctively disentangled herself and stepped away. Undeterred, Henry stuck his chin out and announced, "I've found my real family. Emma's going to prove that my dad didn't know about the adoption and take me away."

Emma sputtered. "That wasn't the deal, kid."

The brunette approached more quickly than Emma expected. She found the woman's anger physically oppressive, but she didn't back down. She had faced a number of hostile forces in her life, and she had yet to yield to them. This woman would likely be exactly like the rest; Emma would fight her if necessary, but all she wanted was to leave Henry and go home.

"I don't know who you think you are-"

"I'm nobody," Emma interjected. "Just some idiot who made a mistake a decade ago. He showed up at my apartment and demanded I come here with him. I thought it was the only way to get him home. I didn't know if he'd run off again if I just took him to a Greyhound station. The thing is, I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here. So I'm dropping him off, and I'll be on my way."

"Are you his birth mother?"

"I…" Emma cleared her throat. "I can explain everything, if you want. But not out here."

"Go to your room, Henry. We'll talk about this later." The brunette pointed to the house and waited until Henry was scurrying past her before direction her attention back to Emma. "Would you care for some apple cider?"

Well, Emma thought, she was already here. She might as well see where this adventure took her. "Got anything stronger?"


	2. Part Two: Emma and Mary Margaret

After the shock wave of brilliant golden light erupted outward from the kiss Regina pressed to Henry's temple, Emma sat alone in the hospital waiting room, her gaze fixated on the tattered scrap of paper upon which the male version of herself boldly rescued the town from an evil curse. Despite several months of battling Regina over Henry and Henry battling her over her identity, she wasn't the one who had done anything to help anyone. The curse was real, but she was no savior.

The savior was supposed to be a brilliant, handsome man with a dashing smile, cleft chin, and muscular physique. He was supposed to ride into town, fulfill his destiny, and win the girl. The town would love him, and his long-lost parents would pull him into a hug and tell him how proud they were of him. All of these lovely things, Emma thought, and none of them were for her.

She had done her best to be a part of Henry's life, much to Regina's horror. She had walked him to and from school, participated in his shenanigans, and saved him from a life-endangering situations. She hadn't meant to like him so much, especially given his attitude about her, but he was endearing and just so much her kid.

Maybe now he'd understand that she wasn't who he expected her to be. He could drop the idea of her being his magnificent father and want her around as his mother. That thought brought an uncertain smile to her face. The thought of having a kid was no longer as frightening as it was the moment she'd found him at her door. She no longer looked at him and remembered the social pressure to be male – he was just a surprise benefit of once having the ability to produce children. She'd thought about having kids a few times, she mused, but she had never expected any of those kids to actually be genetically linked to her. Henry was a bit of a miracle that way.

Part of her wished she could have been a hero like he wanted. He was no doubt supremely disappointed that she hadn't ended the curse while his Evil Queen mother had. Emma hadn't stuck around to find out – as soon as he had awoken from his sleeping-curse-slumber, she had bolted. Disappointment was hard for her to deal with.

When she was five, she'd asked her foster parents for a Dolly Surprise. She'd never forget the way they looked at her as if she were some sort of alien species. Her foster father in particular had glared at her in a way that clearly communicated both disdain and mistrust. On Christmas morning, she'd woken up to a single present: a used GI Joe that one of her foster brothers had left behind when he got sent to another home. She'd gotten so many looks from various people over the years that she was keenly, painfully aware that she was not what the world wanted. She just couldn't take that look again from Henry.

In the distance, she spotted Mary Margaret and David sprinting down the hall. Neither of them spotted her in their hurry; Emma sighed with relief and moved to a darker corner. She had nowhere to go, really. Her home with Mary Margaret was about to become truly awkward, and she was nearly certain that even leaving the hospital would draw unwanted attention to her. For now, she was content hiding out alone with her thoughts.

She wondered what Henry and Regina were telling them. Mary Margaret would be fairly on-board, she figured, as Mary Margaret had been a believer by the end. David, though, had been through a fair amount of trauma – from waking up from a coma to having his fake wife fake murdered – and she wasn't as sure that he'd be as amenable to the sudden change as his wife. Maybe they'd be really pliant, she thought. Maybe they'd deal well with change, and when they found out they had a daughter and not a son, there would be no issue.

She had parents now – real, honest-to-goodness parents. That didn't make them any better, though. They, like nearly all of her foster parents, had sent her away. Some fosters claimed that another home would be better for her, while others simply threw their hands up and denied having the ability to deal with such a different kid. Whatever the reason, no parent had ever wanted to keep her. These were the same.

Rubbing at her eyes, she leaned forward and balanced her elbows on her knees. Though Henry would see the curse break as a victory, she could only see recent events as leading up to the largest let-down of her life. During the rougher moments of her childhood, she'd created this entirely fictional image of who her parents were. She had a million reasons why they couldn't have kept her, ranging from death to being secret agents, but the one thing that kept her going was the thought that they'd want her back someday. They'd meet her and realize that no matter what the hardship, giving her up was a mistake.

Now, though, with her parents very nearby, she knew that this wasn't going to play out the way she had always fantasized. Fear made her stomach toss and turn, empty as it was, and she grabbed a magazine from the nearby coffee table to keep her mind occupied. The details about the life of an aging celebrity did nothing to soothe her worries, but at the very least she was no longer chasing the same thoughts in circles.

Perhaps everything would have been better if she never brought Henry home. She ought to have called the cops or something and had him transported home. Then she wouldn't have seen Regina – she cleared her throat and banished thoughts of the attractive woman from her mind. There were myriad reasons she could never be with Regina, even if she was attracted to the snappy, sharp-tongued woman. Besides, once things were settled here, she wanted to leave as soon as possible, which was hardly the right way to start any romantic entanglement.

Not that she wanted one.

She squeezed her eyes closed and tightened her grip on the magazine. When she opened her eyes anew, she spotted Mary Margaret practically sprinting back down the hall. The smaller woman spotted her but continued running a few steps before skidding to a halt and looking more closely at her. Emma sat perfectly still, hoping that Mary Margaret had selective, motion-based eyesight. She sank down as Mary Margaret bounded toward her.

"You – you're-"

Emma smiled as best she could and stood up. "And you – you're…"

"I can't believe it." Mary Margaret grabbed her wrists. "I almost don't believe it. Henry said – but… You're Emma, and that's just…"

"Not what you were expecting."

Mary Margaret nodded, her smile wobbling with uncertainty. "I only got to hold you for a moment when you were born before your father took you from my arms and sent you on your way. Did… did Henry tell you about that?"

"He showed me the book."

"You were such a perfect little baby." Mary Margaret lifted a hand and cupped her cheek. "I want to apologize for what we did. But we knew the prophecy. We knew you'd come back to us."

"Yeah… I almost didn't, if we're being honest." Emma laughed nervously. This was going much better than she expected, but Mary Margaret hadn't acknowledged her transition, or even called her by name. "Good thing Henry's a persuasive kid, huh?"

"Yes, of course." Mary Margaret let her hand drop away in favor of gesturing for Emma to sit. She sat in the chair directly across and beamed at Emma. "You probably have so many questions. I have a few myself."

"You can go first."

"Mine will take a while," Mary Margaret said with a small flip of her hand. "I just want to know every detail of your life."

Emma hesitated. There was a lot to say, she thought, and she didn't think Mary Margaret would like most of it. "Are you sure? Because-"

"I know that it's going to be hard. But that's why I need to hear it – every detail, so don't spare anything. I know in my heart that sending you away was right because you were able to save the entire town, but-"

"Actually Regina did that."

"What?"

"Yeah, Regina kissed Henry and broke the curse. Not me." Emma wished that she could have been Henry's hero, if only to feel like less of a failure.

"But Henry said-"

"I don't know why he lied, but that's what happened." Emma shrugged. "So I didn't do anything."

"Well, without you Storybrooke wouldn't have changed. We were stuck in time, and you got the clocks moving again. You saved us, whether you want to admit it or not."

"Technically the kid probably would have somehow forced things to happen. He was, after all, aging while the rest of you weren't." A lump began to grow in her throat. She was unnecessary, and soon Mary Margaret would understand that. Every family she'd had to date understood after a while, and Mary Margaret would be no different. "So really, you sent me away for nothing."

"You gave birth to Henry?" Even speaking, Mary Margaret seemed to know that her words held no weight. She offered them anyway and smiled at Emma, who stared blankly back. There were too many ways to pretend like she was important but no actual proof.

"If Regina didn't adopt Henry, she would have adopted some other kid, who'd also age faster than the people around him."

Mary Margaret searched her eyes for a long moment. Her lips quivered and pulled down into a pout. Emma found the expression mildly irritating because she recognized how it yanked the attention from the wrong Emma had suffered to Mary Margaret's pain. "You think we made a mistake."

Though Emma wanted to point out that this wasn't about a mistake – it was about years of being unwanted and shunted from home to home, Emma chose to move forward and save that discussion for another time. "I think that I'm not as important to this town as you think I am. I'm no savior. I'm just Emma."

"Well, now that the curse is broken, aren't you Edward?" Mary Margaret looked at her with such hope that Emma almost felt bad shaking her head.

"You shoved me in a dresser before the curse it, so I wasn't affected, Mary Margaret. There's no magic. I'm just me – I'm just Emma," she repeated.

"This world has made all of us someone we're not," Mary Margaret persisted. "But we can all go back to who we were in the Enchanted Forest. We have magic – we can fix-"

"There's nothing to fix." Emma glowered at her. "And if you think there is, then we're going to have a problem. I've put up with months of Henry's shit about this, so I'm not going to sit here and put up with yours."

Mary Margaret sat back. "Oh."

"Look, it's been a long life, okay? Sorry if I'm a bit blunt, but either you accept me as Emma, or I'm out of here."

"I feel like I'm still waiting for my son to show up." Mary Margaret tried to smile but failed. "You're Emma, and I understand that, but you don't feel like the little boy I lost years ago. You're my friend, not my child. Does that make sense?"

This wasn't exactly the pain for which Emma had been bracing; this was fresh and unexpected and raced through her quickly. Her heart thudded against her ribs, and her head felt very light. This wasn't rejection, she recognized, but rather a complete denial. The worst case was supposed to be Mary Margaret being a disappointed mother, not an oblivious friend.

"Oh, totally," Emma replied. She was proud that her hurt feelings didn't come through in her voice.

"That's a relief." Mary Margaret's expression returned to a light-hearted beam. "Henry's been asking about you."

And just like that, the moment was over. Emma thought there'd be more, but Mary Margaret seemed intent on moving on. Emma wouldn't be surprised if she held some sort of funeral for the baby boy she lost the evening the curse had been cast.

"I'll go up and see him in a bit. For now, I'm just trying to get my thoughts in order, y'know? I didn't really believe in the curse – I still kinda don't, even though I've seen it break with my own two eyes." Emma rubbed the back of her neck. She'd spent too long in what she considered the real world to simply accept magic simply because she'd seen a blast of golden light. As a teenager on the run, she'd gotten to see and meet a number of talented street performers. The only reason she knew this was the real deal was the feeling it had caused in her chest – no laser show or sleight of hand had ever made her ribcage reverberate.

"He wishes you'd come see him."

Emma leaned over to organize the magazines to give herself a moment. Well, she thought, her birthday wish had come true in some sense or another – Mary Margaret was accepting her as Emma. Wishing was tricky business though, she concluded, because this wasn't exactly what she was hoping for. She pressed her lips together and wished once more:_ I wish for someone who accepts who I was, who I am, and who I will be._

"I guess I could do that for him." Emma stood and allowed Mary Margaret to hug her briefly. "Is Regina up there still?"

"Yes." Mary Margaret's tone took on a darker edge. "I asked her to leave, but she refused."

"Henry's her kid."

"She took my child from me, so I don't see why I can't ask her to step outside while I see hers for a few minutes."

Emma grimaced and followed Mary Margaret up to the pediatric wing on the second floor. Nurses milled about, most of whom were confused about their duties. Some had left the moment the curse broke to find their families and reunite with lost loves, but the rest had realized that there were sick patients to which they ought to attend. Emma was grateful that some people had their priorities in order.

She entered Henry's room and approached slowly. He looked happy to see her, so she took his hand and squeezed gently. No matter how ignorant he acted, he was still her kid. They ought to have years ahead of them to sort through the ins and outs of their relationship. She hoped she might get to come visit him a few times a month after she returned to Boston. "Hey, kid."

"Emma, you came back."

"Just went to get some fresh air."

He pulled her close and gave her a weak hug. "I'm glad you came back. Thank you for saving me."

"Kid, your mom did that."

As he proceeded to deliver a very similar argument to Mary Margaret's, Emma turned to look at the brooding brunette who lingered nearby with her arms folded over her chest. Regina looked flustered, which was an unusual look for her – she was normally so calm and in control, but Emma supposed that having a child near death was enough to make anyone look a bit frazzled. Talking over Henry, Emma said, "Thanks, Regina. I know how big that was, y'know?"

Regina almost smiled, she could have sworn it; very quickly, though, Regina's lips tightened and thinned. "There are some things in life worth fighting and dying for, Ms. Swan."

"You're not going to die."

"There are a lot of people in this town who would like to prove you wrong."

"I won't let them." Emma strode to her side and gripped her shoulder. She stared Regina down and spoke with calm certainty, "Trust me. I don't really have any sort of say around here, I know, but worst case I'll take you to Boston with me."

"Me, too?" Henry sat up a bit more in his hospital bed. Even with all the tubes, he looked perky and ready to take on the world. She supposed a little thing like a magic curse wouldn't be enough to slow him down for long. She admired his persistence, even if that trait was annoying in certain contexts. "You'll take me with, right?"

"I wouldn't separate you from your mom."

He frowned. "I want to stay with you."

"Kid…"

"She poisoned me-"

"And then risked her life to save you." Emma shook her head. "Seriously, kid, I think you have some serious stuff to talk about with one another, but she's still your mom, and you're still her kid. Deal with it."

"I hope Snow gave you a similar speech," Regina stated after a moment of stunned silence.

Snow flushed red. "Something like that."

"It's fine." Emma folded her arms over her chest.

Regina examined Snow's shameful expression and Emma's vaguely perturbed one. "You mean to imply that after all these years, there was no tearful reunion?"

"She lost her son," Emma stated as delicately as she could, "and gained a friend."

Regina's lip curled back over her teeth. "I see…"

"This really isn't any of your concern, Regina."

"No, I suppose not." Regina rolled her eyes.

Emma lifted her hands. "This definitely isn't the time or place to have this discussion, so can we just chill for now and be glad that nobody's dead or stuck in a sleeping curse?"

Mary Margaret nodded stiffly and turned to Henry. As Mary Margaret brushed hair from his forehead, Emma felt a hand slid against the small of her back. She glanced at Regina, who stared stolidly forward. A comfortable heat flooded her stomach as she leaned into the touch and returned her attention to Henry.


	3. Part Three: Emma and Regina

"Emma?" Henry waited patiently for her to look up from her paperwork. "You're coming to dinner tonight, right?"

She really didn't want to, but he looked so hopeful. "I was planning on it, yes."

"Good."

"Was there something else?" She watched him fidget. "Your mom is probably expecting you at home."

"About my mom…"

"Why do I get the feeling this isn't about Regina?"

"I was curious about Nelly."

Emma pushed her work away. "I suppose this can't wait until I finish this? Your mom is going to kill me if I don't get this done before Monday."

"She won't kill you. She likes you."

Heat filled Emma's stomach at the thought. "Yeah, well she won't be happy with me either."

"I just want to know more about her. What was she like?"

"You're pretty much just as persistent as she was."

Emma gave up on doing much of anything with the rest of her afternoon. She couldn't complain, however, as she didn't consider spending time with Henry to be a waste of time. Answering his questions was much more interesting than filing police reports anyway – and he was right; Regina wouldn't do much more than scold her if she wasn't done by Monday morning.

"What else?"

"I don't know where to start."

"How'd you meet her?"

"I ran away from one of my foster homes when I was sixteen. They wouldn't call me Emma, and they wouldn't let me be who I was. I couldn't take it, and I knew it was just a few years before I bounced out of the system anyway, so I decided to take my chances on my own.

"You are in no way authorized to use this as an excuse to behave badly, but I stole a car because I had no money and no options. Unfortunately, I stole a stolen car – one Nelly had already jacked. She was sleeping in the backseat and woke up when I revved the engine. She was… everything I wasn't, basically.

"She knew what she was doing and where she was going and how she was going to get there. She had these big plans of going down to Florida so she could have a fresh start. She was going to work picking oranges until she'd saved up enough to buy a grove of her own. She wasn't afraid of hard work, but she'd backed herself into a corner. There were a couple of petty thefts on her record, and nobody would hire her. Down there though, she thought she could work under the table like the migrant workers so her criminal record wouldn't be a problem. She was resourceful, if nothing else." Emma paused, unsure of what else she could say about Nelly. There were bitter feelings that clouded most of how she thought of Nelly, and she didn't think Henry needed her secondhand anger.

"Why would she give me up for adoption?"

"I can only guess. We were together for two years, and then, well, we weren't. It was pretty abrupt, and I don't know where she went or why. She was the first person I trusted – the first person who saw me as me – so her leaving hurt." Emma pressed her lips together and nodded, showing Henry that was the end of her story.

"I just wondered…"

"For all she was a good person and hardworking and all that good stuff, she was also flighty and selfish. She hated being responsible for anyone or anything. I had to convince her that I could take care of myself before she let me tag along in the first place. If I had to guess, I'd say she panicked at the thought of being so wholly responsible for another person."

"Would you have kept me?"

Emma winced; she should have known the question was coming, but she had been too lost in her own memories. "Here's the thing, kid. I was young and stupid, just like she was. Based on how old you are, I was probably seventeen when Nelly got pregnant. I was trapped feeling like a boy in girl's clothing, nothing made any sense at all, and despite what I told Nelly, I really couldn't take care of myself. If she had talked to me at all about you, I would have told her to put you up for adoption."

"But the foster care system was awful for you."

"I was a queer kid, kid. They wanted a little boy who played with trucks and guns. They got me instead, and they didn't want me. My misery in the system was because of my situation, not really the system itself. As long as you were – normal, you'd find a home and you would be okay."

Henry sat silently a moment. "You are normal, Emma."

"Thanks, kid."

"I mean it," he added. "Thanks for being honest with me."

"I'd hate for you to think of me as your evil mother." Her teasing made him smile. "So you're sure you want me to come to dinner?"

"Thursday nights are family dinner nights." He stared her down. "You're family, right?"

"Right…" She cringed, imagining how painful the evening was bound to be. Putting her in a room with Snow and Charming was going to be some layer of hell. They were so nice, she thought, but so oblivious. They'd make offhand comments, not realize the damage they'd down, and just barrel further along as if nothing was wrong.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"Someone's gotta keep your mom from killing Snow."

He beamed at her. "Don't be late."

"I wouldn't dream of it, kid."

0-0-0

Emma sat at the table with her hands clenched into tight fists against her thighs. Opposite her, Snow laughed loudly at something Charming had said. A quick glance at Regina confirmed that the joke hadn't been that funny, and that Snow's laugh was grating. Emma felt a bit bad – she ought to be trying harder to fit in with her newfound family. Rather than feel included though, she constantly felt like an outsider.

Apparently, she thought, having a real family wasn't that different than having foster families. Still, she had found her parents, for all they didn't like to call themselves that, so she did her best to act accordingly. This meant taking sword fighting lessons with Charming, and learning to bake with Snow.

Throughout it all though, they remained distant with her. They were friendly, of course, but they didn't treat her like a daughter. In turn, Emma didn't call them parents and never gave them more than a brief hug. She had moved out as soon as she could, and only visited Snow's apartment once a week. Snow had ostensibly not noticed, but Emma knew their friendship was degrading slowly but surely. The worse it felt, the harder Emma tried to keep Snow's affections.

"Pass the salt, please."

Emma moved quickly, blushing as her fingers overlapped with Regina's. That relationship was getting more complicated, too, and Emma wasn't sure what to do. She certainly wanted anything Regina had to offer, but she'd been burned in relationships in the past – and Henry's questions about Nelly had reawaken a long-forgotten pain.

"Did Henry tell you about his history project?"

Emma shook her head, glad for the shift away from Snow and Charming talking to each other. "Kid doesn't tell me anything except that you said it's okay for him to have ice cream."

Henry folded his arms over his chest. "It totally is."

"Kid."

"Okay, so maybe once or twice it wasn't. Maybe."

Emma rolled her eyes. "The project?"

As he launched into an explanation of how he was supposed to research a historical figure and then write a series of journal entries of someone living at the same time, Emma let her gaze fall on Regina, who watched Henry with rapt attention. She was pleased that her kid had ended up in a home with someone who actually gave a damn about him.

She wondered how her life would have been different if she, too, had found a home like this one. Regina was certainly supportive of her being herself, which was a trait every single home she'd been in from birth 'til sixteen had lacked. She'd spent so many years feeling wrong when she didn't have to. Those felt wasted to her now.

"I'm going to choose Vlad the Impaler."

"That's so macabre," Snow inserted. "Why not choose someone from the Enchanted Forest? I'd be glad to give you any information you needed."

Henry shrugged. "He's interesting. Did you know Dracula's based on him?"

"Regina, you're really going to let him?"

Regina looked entirely nonplussed as she cut her steak and replied, "I don't see why not."

"It's a parent's job to look out for her child," Snow argued. "You shouldn't let him read about a man who did such vile things."

"What would you know about being a parent?"

"I think it's fine," Emma interrupted. "Henry's not in any danger because Vlad's just some old, dead guy. Henry's not a kid, and the whole point of the project is to look into someone cool like that."

"I just think that-"

"Did you know, Snow, that recent studies suggest that children learn better when they're allowed to investigate topics that interest them?"

Snow frowned. "What, exactly, are you hoping Henry will learn from this project?"

"How to research. How to write." Regina's lips curled up at the corners. "How to properly impale a village of peasants."

"Well!" Emma stood abruptly. "I'm going to make some hot chocolate. Anyone want any?"

0-0-0

She stood on the porch with a mug in her hands and watched the stars twinkling overhead. Storybrooke was far enough away from major cities that the night sky was full of small, distant lights, and Emma had to admit that she liked the view a bit better than the city skyline she saw from her apartment window. Living in Boston had allowed her to be anonymous – nobody saw her and wanted her to be different – and that aspect was definitely missed here.

For a few weeks after the curse broke, she'd fended off numerous questions, complaints, and suggestions about who she ought to be, though thankfully none of them had come from Henry. Given all that had happened, she was a bit surprised that he suddenly accepted her as Emma, but all his pressure about her being Edward had dissipated. He'd even called her 'Ma' the other day, which made her smile.

She didn't do that much anymore, she thought. She was more likely to maintain a blank face or force a frown than to let any sort of happiness express itself on her features. This town, for all its scenic beauty, did little to make itself her home. She finally had some semblance of a family, and she was more disappointed than anything else. Though Snow no longer made comments about her lost son, Emma had seen the longing gazes both Snow and Charming shot her when they thought she wasn't paying attention.

"Enjoying the evening?"

She turned slowly and nodded her head in greeting. "Sorry. I know it was probably bad manners to leave a dinner party to stand outside alone, but I… I needed some fresh air."

Regina came to stand beside her. "I understand. Had Henry not insisted, I wouldn't have invited your parents."

"Don't call them that." Emma rubbed the back of her neck. "And I guess we both do things we don't want to for the kid. I don't think he's knows how spoiled he is though, so don't tell him."

"I won't if you don't."

After a beat, Emma returned to the topic that was truly bugging her. "Did you know they're having another baby?"

Regina's mien remained stoic. "Oh?"

"They didn't really waste any time, did they? The curse broke, Henry got kidnapped, and we all made it home in one piece – and along the way, they found time to make a baby." Emma couldn't quite keep the bitterness from her voice. "I overheard Snow telling Charming that they were finally going to have the child they always wanted."

"Frankly I'm not surprised."

"What?"

Regina glanced at Emma and shrugged. As far as she was concerned, Snow didn't deserve a daughter like Emma, and Emma deserved far better parents. While she couldn't deliver proper parentage, she could offer support. "I've had my run-ins with Snow White, and the common thread in each interaction has always been her ability to blindly and unintentionally wound other people. I would have been surprised if they sat down with you and discussed the possibility of another child, really."

"I wouldn't have minded that. Well, not as much." Emma sipped her drink and enjoyed the stream of warmth down her throat. The night was cool, and the disparate temperature sent shivers down her arms.

"My mother was a bit like Snow – egocentric and unaware of the impact of her actions. She wanted what she wanted, and I had to support her wishes and obey her commands, regardless of how I felt." Regina's hand slid around Emma's waist, and Emma scooted a little closer.

"That blows, but I had a few parents like that myself."

"I couldn't speak out without some sort of punishment looming overhead."

"I'm not against you sharing this with me, but I'm curious why now?"

Disregarding the question, Regina examined the heavens and continued. "Sometimes I went without my meals, while other times she used her magic to restrain me. I came to expect coarse treatment from her, and I was never wrong. She had so much power over me. I didn't think I could ever escape."

"But you did."

"Only because Rumplestiltskin offered me a way out, and that way out led me down a harmful path from which I'm still recovering." Regina's hand tensed on Emma's hip. Emma covered her hand and squeezed, giving Regina the strength to make her point. "Snow is not the same as my mother, and you are in a much better position to take care of yourself. You can talk to her as equals, and you can make her understand that your feelings are just as valid and important as hers are."

"I feel like you're talking to both me and your younger self."

"I wish this had been true for her."

Emma grimaced. "I just don't see the point. It is what it is. She's already pregnant. Nothing I say is going to change the fact that in a few months, there's going to be a baby that they actually want."

"What do you think will happen if they have another child who perhaps identifies as the gender designated at birth, but doesn't match up with their expectations in other ways?" Regina pulled away and sucked in a deep breath. "Perhaps I'm just pessimistic and cynical after too many years of hate and anger, but I don't want to just sit by while they ruin another relationship."

"To be fair, they didn't ruin mine – they'd have to have kept me for me to have one with them, so there was nothing to ruin. All they did was clarify what they wanted, and I have to respect that."

"No, you don't."

Emma swallowed awkwardly and set her now-empty mug aside. The mug barely fit on the railing, and Emma made a mental note that she'd have to be careful not to knock the dish off the ledge.

"Something is better than nothing, y'know?"

"Not always."

"Please remember that you're talking to somebody who's used to having nothing all the time." Emma clenched her eyes shut. "I never have parents or family or friends, so having a little taste of that right now is more than I'd ever thought I'd get."

"You're settling for scraps."

Emma's brow furrowed. "What?"

"That first night we met, when we were talking over cider, do you recall what you told me?"

"I'm pretty sure I said a lot of stuff."

"What I'm referring to in particular is how you were glad that Henry had found a permanent home."

"Oh, yeah…"

"I could tell that you weren't telling the whole truth."

"Well, I wasn't sure back then if you loved him, y'know? Like, I was glad he had a home and all, but I had to make sure."

"In other words, you didn't want him to have to settle for scraps. You wanted him to have everything."

"Yeah. Even back then, I guess I felt like he was my responsibility, even if I felt put out that I had to interrupt my own life to bring him home."

"I'm not willing to leave this alone until you have everything, Ms. Swan."

"Why?"

"Why are you so willing to let this be?"

"Maybe I'm just afraid that complaining will put this whole thing at risk. Maybe I'm trying not to lose what little I have."

"No matter what, Emma, you'll have me, and you'll have Henry."

Emma twisted to face the brunette, who met her gaze steadily. "Regina, I… I don't really know how to respond to that. I've never – well, I've never had anyone commit so readily to me like that. Even the guy who cut my hair had to check his schedule, y'know?"

Regina smirked. "I happen to have a very open schedule, so I doubt we'll run into any issues."

"I appreciate your openness."

They watched each other a moment longer before Emma felt her cheeks flushing and so turned back to stare up at the stars. Regina rescued the mug from the ledge and gestured to the house. "Will you come back inside?"

"In a second."

Regina kissed her cheek and headed for the door. "Take as long as you need."

Once alone again, Emma let out a deep sigh. Feeling more at peace than ever before, she let the calm of the evening wash over her. A shooting star passed by overhead, but she couldn't think of anything she needed to wish for.


End file.
